


The Hope That Lives Within You

by voraciousmutation



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, It's pretty one-sided Hajime is NOT having a good time, Kazuichi says maybe three lines, Komahina - Freeform, M/M, Macro/Micro, One-Sided Attraction, Shrinking, Soft Vore, Vore, micro/macro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voraciousmutation/pseuds/voraciousmutation
Summary: “You're insane! How am I supposed to accept something like that!” Hajime exclaimed, looking to the door and praying that anyone would enter and interrupt Nagito’s plan. Nagito wanted to kill him, and he wanted to be /caught/. How the hell did that make any sense?“Becoming one with such stunning hope as yourself, Hajime… I really am more than honored.” Nagito spoke as if Hajime had said nothing at all.“What are you even talking about? Are you listening to yourself? You can't--”“Goodbye.”





	The Hope That Lives Within You

Hajime could sense that something was wrong before he even opened his eyes. He was shivering for one thing, something that was abnormal for someone who was normally so warm. His blankets seemed to have disappeared sometime during the night, his window having been cracked open just enough to allow the cool breeze snaking through the room to turn chilly. Turning over onto his side, Hajime reached blindly for his comforter, ready to curl into it and fall right back into unconsciousness-- Only to turn up empty-handed. 

Reluctantly, Hajime sat up, blinking the sleep from his gaze as he tried to process the early morning. Monokuma’s announcement hadn’t gone off yet, but the light filtering in from his open window suggested that it would not be long until it sounded. Yet, Hajime was awake, and that was too early for him. It wasn’t long before he was completely conscious though, and that was when he really realized that something was awry. 

His blankets had been pushed towards the end of his bed, but they were so far away from himself that it made Hajime dizzy. His brain couldn’t seem to process the distance between his body and the long expanse of his bed, which seemed to stretch on for miles rather than feet. As he turned his attention downwards, peering from his position atop his mattress to the floor, he felt himself grow horribly nauseous. Hajime swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, scrambling away from the drop that looked as though he were jumping from the rooftop of a building. But he wasn’t. He was sitting in bed, where everything should have been normal. Well, as normal as it could be on the island. 

Hajime’s thoughts were racing so fast that the sudden blaring of the morning announcement in his room startled him into nearly tumbling off of the bed, despite having done his best to move away from the edge. He was trembling now, not just from cold, but from actual /fear/ that had so suddenly gripped him. The world around him had changed-- Everything around him was /huge/. From the expanse of coffee table across from his bed to the mountain of shelf lined with the couple Monokuma plushies Hajime had grudgingly held onto. They had to be bigger than he was now… Sitting there taking in his new environment, Hajime determined that he couldn't have been more than a couple inches tall. 

“...Okay,” Hajime muttered, a weak attempt to ground himself. This had to be a dream, or one of Monokuma’s tricks, or… Or /something/. Either way, it couldn’t be real. His voice sounded as hollow and disconnected as he felt, and all that Hajime could do was sit and stare. The morning announcement had long since ended, but he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Everyone would be gathering at the dining hall and they’d surely notice he wasn’t there, right? Would they think he had been murdered? Would they look for him? What would he even do if he was found?

If he was found… What if no one found him? Hajime’s breathing turned shallow, his thoughts beginning to spiral into despair. Even if this was exactly what Monokuma wanted, he couldn’t help but feel hopeless. What the hell was he even supposed to do? The distance from his bed to his floor would certainly kill him at this height, leaving him trapped on his bed. Hajime could die there, his tiny corpse never to be found again. The thought had him reeling, unable to catch his breath as his brain pieced together the worst case-scenario. 

He was so deep in thought that he nearly didn’t process the soft knocking at his door, the sound eventually pulling Hajime from his stupor. He looked hopefully to the source of the sound, but faltered as he grew uncertain of how he was supposed to even let someone inside. Perhaps everyone else had finally noticed his absence at breakfast and had gone to look for him. The idea was reassuring, even if Hajime was lost on what to do next. What was more surprising than the knock, however, was that a moment later, his door opened. Had Hajime not locked it the night before? He was confident that he had. Now was hardly the time to worry about it though. 

Hajime waited for Chiaki, or Fuyuhiko, or even Kazuichi to enter. He was certain that any of them would be concerned enough to look for him. Who he didn’t expect, however, was Nagito Komaeda to peer past the door into Hajime’s cottage. He was wearing a puzzled expression, as if just as surprised to have found the door unlocked as Hajme felt. Hajime supposed that he couldn’t feel too surprised at Nagito’s curiosity. Another dead body found would mean another murder, another ‘stepping stone for hope’, as Nagito put it. No wonder he was interested in Hajime’s disappearance. 

Nagito stepped inside and scanned the interior of the cottage, eyes glossing right over Hajime. He doubted Nagito had even noticed the tiny figure on the bed, which Hajime found himself relieved by. Something within him was insisting he keep quiet and wait for someone more trustworthy to reveal himself to. Nagito would surely turn around and leave once he determined that Hajime was not there. 

Except that he didn’t. Nagito paused just in front of the door, slowly closing it behind him as he stepped further within the room. He moved to glance into the bathroom, finding it empty, before the intruder wandered over to observe Hajime’s shelves. Hajime watched incredulously as Nagito took it upon himself to sort through Hajime’s belongings, examining everything from the stupid Monokuma plushies to the couple books that had been left on his coffee table for later reading. Everything was placed back neatly where it had been found, but Nagito didn’t appear to be satisfied. Who the hell did he think he was, waltzing inside and handling Hajime’s stuff as though it were his right?

As Nagito sauntered over to Hajime’s dresser, Hajime suddenly felt as though he could no longer contain himself. Forget the fact that he was probably the size of Nagito’s middle finger, watching the other sort through his things so casually was almost ridiculous. Before reason could catch up with him, Hajime stumbled to his feet and scowled, fists clenched at his sides as he spoke.

“Hey!” 

Nagito’s head snapped up, turning towards the source of the shout with a mystified expression, appearing more interested than ashamed at having been caught. Hajime’s courage dissipated as Nagito’s attention landed on the bed, brows furrowed. Hajime instantly regretted making a sound, considering that Nagito hadn’t technically been doing his things any harm (even if the invasion of privacy was irritating). At least then he hadn't been in danger. 

“Hello?” Nagito questioned, his soft voice the only other sound in the room besides Hajime’s own breathing. He seriously should have let Nagito be… Now Nagito was slowly approaching him, expression determined, and all Hajime could do was stare. He was frozen in place, unable to even react as his gaze met Nagito’s a moment later. 

Nagito blinked, staring down at the mattress in light disbelief, before his eyes widened in recognition of Hajime’s tiny frame. Hajime felt a strange sense of unease shudder through him as a smile suddenly replaced the confusion on Nagito’s face, eyes wide and attentive. Hajime could barely take in Nagito’s appearance, towering over him like a skyscraper that could crush him in an instant. It was an eternity before Nagito made the first move, reaching down to take Hajime’s form into his palm before Hajime could even speak. Hajime tried to squirm away, grabbing desperately for his bed as Nagito’s fingers curled around him, forcing him into stillness. Then he was directly in front of Nagito’s face, the other observing him carefully as Hajime struggled uselessly in his grasp. 

“...Huh,” Was all Nagito said at first, finally appearing to accept the same reality that Hajime had been forced to. Hajime was breathing hard, feeling drained from having attempted to escape the other’s grip. Nagito didn’t seem to notice, thumb pressed uncomfortably to Hajime’s chest as he continued. “...No one else thought to check your cottage first. Maybe this is just a stroke of good luck? I guess the real question is how this happened to you in the first place--” 

“Let go of me.” Hajime was hardly in a position to be making requests, but he couldn’t deal with both Nagito’s rambling and his own absurd situation at the same time. His head was spinning with everything at once, the height at which he was being held a new factor he was forced to be wary of. He was shaking, making his already pathetic tone laughable. Nagito’s hand was freezing cold, but somehow Hajime doubted that the temperature was the only cause of his trembling. 

“What then?” Nagito’s brows raised, his grip unchanging around Hajime’s body. “Did you have a plan? It didn’t look like you made much progress before I got here.”

“...Let go of me.”

“Are you going to make me?” The words caught Hajime off-guard, the almost aggressive nature of Nagito’s tone leaving him speechless. When Hajime didn’t reply, Nagito gave a little sigh, slowly shaking his head. “Hah… Amazing how utter trash like me managed to get here before everyone else… There must be a reason for that, right?”

Hajime didn’t know how to respond. He was apparently at Nagito’s mercy, a position that he immediately found himself disliking of. When he remained speechless, Nagito continued, his tone turning disappointed. 

“It's really a shame this happened to you instead of me.” He sighed, mournfully.

“Why would you ever want this? I… Don’t even know what to do right now.” Hajime felt helpless. He had managed to hold his tongue before saying so aloud, but it was true. He doubted Nagito hadn't already assumed such himself. 

“Do you know how easy it would be to formulate the perfect murder this way?” Nagito’s voice turned soft, yet almost sickeningly excited at the suggestion. It made Hajime begin to grow nauseous all over again. Nagito's grip unconsciously tightened around him, forcing Hajime to wheeze in desperation for air. “They'd never find the body. There'd be no evidence. Do you suppose Monokuma would even bother holding a trial--?”

“Nagito...!” Hajime hissed, no longer able to pull oxygen into his lungs. Nagito’s eyes flickered down to him, quickly relinquishing his tight grasp. He adjusted his hand so that his palm was flat, no longer keeping Hajime restrained. Hajime took a moment to catch his breath, relieved that he could at the very least move around (even if he was restricted to Nagito’s palm). 

“Ah-- Sorry.” Nagito quickly stated, though his gaze was more curious than apologetic. Hajime managed shakily to his feet, pleased that at the very least Nagito was keeping his hand still, before he looked up at the other and rolled his eyes. 

“They would find me,” Hajime promised, the conviction in his tone causing Nagito to frown. “We've managed through what we thought was impossible before. This wouldn't stop them.” 

“It would be incredible if they figured it out, wouldn't it?” Nagito murmured quietly, almost to himself. “To assume the impossible and piece together an argument from almost nothing...”

Hajime didn't know how else to describe the change in Nagito’s expression but /hungry/. The light in his eyes became greedy, something Hajime had never seen from the other before. He felt himself shiver, as if his blood had become ice within him. 

“You understand sacrifice, don't you?” Nagito questioned, suddenly. His free hand plucked Hajime from his palm, holding him close enough to his face that Hajime could feel Nagito's warm breath on his skin. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Hajime urged, making the mistake of glancing downwards. He bit down hard on his lower lip, dizzied by how easily Nagito could end him right then. He'd be no more than a bloodied stain on the hardwood floor that Nagito could wipe up in an instant. Was that Nagito's plan? To kill him in the name of hope? 

“It isn't personal,” Nagito assured, only serving to make Hajime feel worse. “This could have happened to anyone… But I think it was meant to be you, Hajime” 

“W-wait--” Hajime couldn't get the word out of his mouth fast enough, stammering through it in his desperation. Nagito was going to kill him. Anyone else could have walked into his cottage, and he was confident that he would have been safe. Instead it was Nagito who held life and death over his head, and Hajime was terrified. 

“--At this size… Our hope could be one.” Nagito whispered. Hajime /did/ recognize Nagito's expression then-- His crazed grin and eyes muddied with insanity. It was the first time Hajime’s fear morphed into panic, the sensation rising within him until he could no longer contain it. 

“Ch-Chiaki! Fuyuhiko! /Anyone/!” Hajime nearly screamed, as if someone could hear his tiny voice from inside the cottage. Nagito’s head tilted slightly to the side, though Hajime couldn't tell if he was confused or unimpressed. Really he didn't care. Analyzing Nagito's behavior was not the most pressing concern right then. 

“Everyone’s hope is going to burn so much brighter because of you! There's no way someone like me could inspire everyone the way you will.” Nagito insisted, which nearly forced Hajime into hysterics. 

“You're insane! How am I supposed to accept something like that!” Hajime exclaimed, looking to the door and praying that anyone would enter and interrupt Nagito’s plan. Nagito wanted to kill him, and he wanted to be /caught/. How the hell did that make any sense? 

“Becoming one with such stunning hope as yourself, Hajime… I really am more than honored.” Nagito spoke as if Hajime had said nothing at all. 

“What are you even talking about? Are you listening to yourself? You can't--” 

“Goodbye.” 

Hajime waited for Nagito to release him, waited for the free-fall sensation before he inevitably hit the unforgiving ground below. A fast death, at least. Not that Hajime had any interest in dying in the first place. Unexpectedly, however, Nagito brought him closer, enough that Hajime could have reached out and touched the other's face had he chosen to. He watched Nagito's mouth open, but rather than spilling another round of deranged ramblings as Hajime expected, suddenly he was being pitched forth, limbs flailing in alarm, and then Nagito's mouth snapped shut with Hajime trapped within. 

“Wh--?” Hajime sputtered, still processing the past several seconds. He was… He was on his hands and knees, palms pressed against the damp floor of his new prison. Nagito's mouth. He was /inside/ of Nagito's /mouth/. 

The other’s previous words echoed in his brain, Nagito’s reasoning suddenly piecing itself together in his mind. ‘Becoming one with such a stunning hope as yourself, Hajime…’ Then Nagito meant to-- 

“Nagito!” Hajime yelled, managing to his feet despite the uncertain movement of the fleshy ground below him. He stumbled forward, as if there were anywhere to escape to, but fell at the abrupt movement of Nagito’s tongue below. The muscle whisked him into Nagito's cheek, pinning him there as Nagito lisped around Hajime's form. 

“At least you're not cold anymore, right?” Nagito noted, though Hajime couldn't tell if the words were smug or genuine. He struggled against the muscle pinning him to flesh, his body soaked in a matter of seconds. 

“Nag--! Ugh--!” Hajime tried to speak again, only to cough as the saliva engulfing him made it impossible to speak, impossible to /breathe/--

“Hah…” Nagito's lips parted, giving a light, breathy exhale. The sound echoed around Hajime, tone dripping with pleasure. His tongue eventually relieved its pressure against Hajime’s form, finally allowing him to draw in a deep breath. Hajime coughed and sputtered briefly, piecing his frazzled thoughts together before shouting. 

“You're /disgusting/--!” He wanted to keep yelling, but Nagito's tongue easily smoothed over him again, silencing any more attempted protests. Hajime felt himself grow light-headed, each attempt to open his mouth only further suffocating him. Nagito couldn't seem to bear letting him remain still, his heavy breathing hot and full of bliss. Hajime could do nothing more than let himself be toyed with, his struggling only serving to exhaust him. Then, just as he had nearly gone limp, consciousness close to fading-- 

The sound of the cottage door swinging open caused Hajime to perk up instantly, Nagito's breath stuttering in response. Hajime was forced back into the pocket of Nagito’s cheek, straining to hear the voice of his savior as footsteps within the cottage grew louder.

“Oh, it's just you,” Kazuichi's voice sighed after a moment, disappointment tangible. Likely he had entered and noticed Nagito alone in the cottage. There was a moment of silence, then, “Wait, how long have you been in here? You said you'd check out Hajime's cottage like twenty minutes ago. The hell have you been doing?” 

It took Nagito a moment to reply, Hajime's squirming form likely making it difficult (not that Hajime cared in the slightest). Anything he could do to get Kazuichi's attention was the best he could hope for. 

“Kazuich--!” Hajime cried, the desperation in his tone tangible. His voice felt pathetically small, unable to even catch the attention of someone so frustratingly close. He tried to scramble forward, earning another nauseating sound from Nagito, but made no progress forward. 

“Uhn-- I was just taking the opportunity to look around,” Nagito lisped, to which Hajime could practically feel Kazuichi’s eyes narrowing with doubt. “If Hajime was the traitor, you’d want to know, wouldn’t you? I just came here to check.” 

Hajime’s blood ran cold as Kazuichi failed to reply, horrified that Nagito’s words actually made /sense/. Were he in Kazuichi’s position and Nagito given him such a smooth explanation, Hajime might have actually believed it. He supposed that Nagito might not have even been lying. That might have been his original intention before discovering Hajime. It did seem like something that the boy would do--

“I mean-- I guess you’re right…?” Kazuichi sounded reluctant, but understanding. Hajime’s heart sank, fear rising in his throat. 

“Wait--!” The cry ripped through Hajime’s body, shuddering with desperation. He had never felt such a panic as the one that suddenly overtook him, as though someone else had possessed his body and turned his movements jerky and sporadic in a frantic attempt to escape. Kazuichi had to notice him. If he didn’t, than Nagito would--

Nagito’s head slowly began to tip back, something Hajime had been too distracted to previously notice. Much to Hajime's horror, his body began to slide downwards without the certainty of a solid surface beneath him, hands grabbing blindly for anything that might prevent his unwilling descent. He couldn't die this way! By Nagito's hand and helpless to do a thing about it. He cried out, silenced as Nagito’s tongue abruptly rose, and then Hajime was falling. Limbs flailing in terror, he struggled to reach for anything at all that might save him from certain demise. 

No such miracle occured. Hajime’s body was being squeezed tightly, arms pinned to his sides as Nagito swallowed around him. Hajime’s ribs ached, gasping for more than the little breaths he managed to force into his lungs. The pulse of Nagito’s throat was almost rhythmatic, each careful swallow sending Hajime further down into his esophagus. It was an eternity before the pressure on his body lessened, allowing him to pull in a stale, warm breath as he laid on his back on the soft floor of Nagito’s stomach. He scrambled to his feet, the ground unsteady below. 

Hajime stood frozen, unable to even take in his new surroundings. His legs were shaking, barely able to remain standing. It was so hot that his thoughts were barely coherent, the shifting floor beneath forcing him to stumble into the nearest fleshy wall. He pressed a hand against the soft confines of his prison, disgusted at the wet, sticky texture that clung to his skin. Hajime seemed to be all that was contained within the stomach, which he discovered while reaching aimlessly around him in hope that one of the walls might give way to an exit. When the hell had Nagito last eaten? Maybe that was a factor in how he had determined this fitting end for Hajime. The guy was far from mentally sound. It wouldn’t have surprised Hajime at this point. 

He finally managed to process the muted sound of voices from his current position, muffled, but audible. 

“--the fuck?” That was Kazuichi's voice, the tone a strange mixture of disgust and concern. Hajime’s world shifted, as if Nagito had suddenly lowered himself, the space around him shrinking as Nagito doubled over. Hajime shouted in protest, fearful that he might end up crushed in the process. 

“H...hah…” Nagito managed, the euphoria spilling from his lips so utterly ecstatic that neither Hajime nor Kazuichi knew how to react. Hajime was still, fearful that any movement on his part would push Nagito into further elation. After a few heavy breaths on Nagito's part, the ground shifted again as the other got back to his feet. “...I apologize, Kazuichi, for forcing you to witness something so disgusting.” 

“You're… Drooling.” Was Kazuichi's reply, voice weak. 

Nagito’s continuous movements only served to make the limited space of his stomach warmer, leaving Hajime soaked more by his own sweat than saliva. As much as he wanted to avoid eliciting more reaction from the other, the only way he could remain standing was by leaning heavily against one of the surrounding fleshy walls. Hajime was gasping nearly as heavily as Nagito, though for lack of oxygen rather than arousal. His head was spinning, struggling to listen as Kazuichi continued. 

“I'm gonna-- I should go. I'm gonna go,” Hajime's last hope was about to disappear… But he was so out of it that he couldn't seem to care. “Good luck with… Whatever the hell this is.” 

The cottage door opened and closed again, followed by a few moments of silence before Nagito breathed, “Hajime?” 

“Nagito…” Hajime loathed the sound of his own voice, nearly drawing the boy’s name into a moan. It sounded so feeble, like it was one of the last words that might ever pass through his lips again. The name of his killer. How horribly ironic.

Nagito's body shuddered in response, reacting as though he had never experienced pleasure in his life. Had Hajime been more than half-conscious, he might have voiced his revulsion at the thought. /This/ of all things was what Nagito was getting off to?

Then there was hesitation on Nagito’s part, though whether he was thinking to himself or listening for Hajime was unclear. Hajime was too busy panting to put much more thought into it, the air hot and wet in his mouth. Each gasp was void of relief, turning to a needy wheeze in his desperation for oxygen.

Nagito began walking, forcing Hajime to his knees. The other grunted in response, while the little liquid within Nagito's stomach served to further soak Hajime's ruined jeans.

Nagito gagged, the shift in sound from pleasure to almost pained surprising Hajime enough for him to look up, as though hope might be there waiting for him. Then again, the sound resounded from above, causing him to grimace. It was horribly loud, the sound echoing in a disorienting fashion that only made Hajime's dizziness intensify. Another gag, and then--

“Gh--!” Hajime’s body was being squeezed again, the sensation nearly enough to force him to black out completely, before he found himself laying in the sink of his own bathroom. Nagito stared down at him worriedly, Hajime's own gaze struggling to adjust to the brightness of the fluorescent lights above. 

Relief filled his lungs as Hajime breathed in the cool, sweet air surrounding him, coughing up a mouthful of clear fluid that he doubted was his own. Hajime's nose wrinkled at the thought, tugging at the sodden collar of his shirt that felt sticky on his skin.

Nagito reached forward to turn on the sink, the light drizzle of cool water on Hajime's back almost heavenly. He gave a sigh of relief, though his eyes remained trained on Nagito as the boy sheepishly wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

Hajime wanted to ask about a million questions, but he was still too disoriented to piece most of them together. Nagito watched him struggle for a moment before uncertainly clearing his throat, expression uneasy.

“I couldn't kill you,” Nagito murmured finally, as though it wasn't obvious. Hajime wouldn't have been there listening to him speak otherwise. “Someone like me shouldn't be the one to destroy such potential, especially after unintentionally making me feel so wonderful. For this to have happened to you and not me is just so… Unlucky. Then I could have been the one to--” 

“Stop it,” Hajime held up a tiny hand, silencing Nagito in an instant. How the other could switch from so stubborn to so submissive was beyond him, but at least Nagito was finally listening to him. “I wouldn't even wish this on you. But considering the way you reacted while Kazuichi was here, I don't think you're that upset about all of this.” 

Nagito looked away, though the aversion of his gaze did not hide the blush on his cheeks. Hajime rolled his eyes, trying to push the Nagito's earlier moaning out of his brain. Thinking about it only made Hajime feel dizzy all over again, so he just shook his head and focused on Nagito himself. 

“I owe you something, for forcing you to go through that.” Nagito muttered, more to himself than anything. One of his hands drifted to rest on his stomach, lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. Hajime opened his mouth to protest that he wanted nothing from Nagito after what had just happened, but found himself frozen as the other suddenly extended his hands and offered them into the sink. It took Hajime a moment to recognize that Nagito wanted him to settle into his palms, and while his distrust of the idea was obvious as he remained seated, at the very least he was grateful that Nagito hadn't just reached in and scooped him up without warning. 

When Hajime didn't move, Nagito gave a soft sigh of disappointment. “I'm just going to make sure you stay safe until you're back to normal. That has to be better than sitting in a wet sink until someone else finds you, right?” 

Hajime grimaced, carefully regarding Nagito's words. He seemed genuine, and though every part of Hajime was screaming not to trust the other, his options were extremely limited. Nagito had his chance to kill him and had chosen otherwise. That had to count for something, right? 

Slowly, Hajime got to his feet and stepped forward into Nagito’s palm, to which Nagito cupped his other hand close and gently lifted Hajime upwards. Fear briefly ran through him as Nagito’s face grew closer, worried that he had made the wrong decision all along, but when the other made no movement to harm him, he raised a puzzled brow in Nagito's direction. 

“...Isn't this better than me staring down at you?” Nagito questioned, to which Hajime breathed a sigh of relief. The two could hold eye contact this way, and admittedly, it was a lot less unsettling when he could take in Nagito's full expression. 

“Y-yeah. I guess so.” Hajime agreed, casting the floor below an uneasy look. 

“What should we do first then? Everyone is probably worrying about you,” Nagito mused. “I would suggest getting you changed, but I don't think there are any clothes your size around--” 

Nagito was interrupted by a low growl from his stomach, to which he winced and immediately looked flustered by the sound. Nagito looked so surprised that Hajime couldn't help it-- He laughed. It was a laugh that came from a sense of ease, bubbling up from deep inside as Hajime managed to breathe easy for the first time since waking up that morning. The entire situation was unbelievably ridiculous, and he finally seemed to recognize such for himself. He even found it within himself to smirk, glancing up to meet Nagito's bewildered stare as he replied,

“Maybe we start by getting you something to eat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Normally this is where I'd put my tumblr and Insta but I'd die if anyone I knew found this fic so *Roblox death noise* sorry folks. Also I'm the only person who has proofread this so if the wording is kinda janky I apologize (I'll keep returning to edit stuff I notice later). Edit: I ended up making a nsfw tumblr if you want to keep up with me elsewhere (mostly porn, sorry folks). It's @voraciousmutation if you're interested!
> 
> Any suggestions for some future danganronpa soft vore prompts in the comments would be super appreciated!


End file.
